


The Young Reaper From Within

by TrancyPants



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2014-09-02
Packaged: 2018-02-15 22:43:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2246073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrancyPants/pseuds/TrancyPants
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a look of the Undertaker after a long day of dealing with customers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Young Reaper From Within

**Author's Note:**

> Originally this wasn't meant to be a fanfiction but it was too long for a roleplay audition so I made it into a fanfiction. Hopefully that makes sense.

It never seems to end...his customers keep pouring into his crowded little shop like their life's depended on it. Their loved ones that they held so dearly to their hearts are bawling their eyes out as they are shamefully picking out his handmade...coffins. In London, to him, Death has this major corrupted city wrapped around its cold finger. Chuckling at this elusive thought, he then laughed out loud as the thought comes to him every now and then. " The pale white skin, body as stiff as a board, and of course the stitching of human flesh being sewn together like making a quilt. This is what Death is like to others, but between you and I? It's more precious than the rarest diamonds of this world." As a smirk made its way across his face, he combed his fingers through the deceased young woman's brunette hair like a mother would to her ill child.

_Celeste Eliza Monroe Born June 16, 1872-Died December 3, 1886. Loving Daughter who is going home to her Heavenly Father._

His smile soon faded away as he grabbed the lid of the brown coffin and laid it softly on the coffin as if not to wake the person in eternal slumber. As far as he knew, she seemed to have drowned in a lake outside of London while on vacation with her family. Everybody who witnessed the incident were too overwhelmed with grief that they refused to give any tips as to how she could have drowned. He could have cared less. Even though he has lived many years in the human world, Undertaker still quite can't figure out why humans get so depressed and angry when Death has taken a toll on their loved ones. Death is just something that should be beautiful, not shameful. Shaking his head at that awful thought he walked slowly, slightly hunched forward and his head held high to one particular coffin that nobody DARE touch. It protected the one thing that got him through the days of having to deal with repulsive customers like the ones today. His hands came forward to the coffin that stood up against the wall in the very back and away from wandering eyes. Undertaker caressed the front of the coffin and his fingers slid to the sides opening the coffin with such caution. " ...This is the reason Death is such a beautiful thing!" He said almost in a whisper emphasizing the word Death.

As a retired reaper it is the rules to return your scythe to the Reapers Weapons Dispatch Office. He didn't; why should he? Undertaker is the highest Death God known in the reaper world. Without hesitation he pulled out the weapon used to reap the souls of humans. It comprised of a 9 foot tall scythe with the blade being 8 feet long. The handle is made of the finest material of wood known to anyone. But those didn't compare to the one detail that made his life more thrilling: The real skeleton of a human from the waist up connecting the blade to the handle.

With one swift move he spun around on his feet grabbing the skeletal hand of the scythe and saying in a very low but audible voice, " You are the only thing that makes me feel young again." Bringing the hand to his lips for a gentle kiss another smirk appeared along with a small chuckle.


End file.
